


To the Victor

by mautadite



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 21:14:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8416936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mautadite/pseuds/mautadite
Summary: After their first time in the drift, Annalise doesn’t speak to her for three days.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thesleepingsatellite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesleepingsatellite/gifts).



> Did someone say PacRim AU and D/s? :) Hope you like.

After their first time in the drift, Annalise doesn’t speak to her for three days.

Here, there’s a proven compatibility; they’ve got the simulator scores and the practice range combat trials to prove it. Marshal Keating has years and experience on her; fourteen drops and thirteen kills, and a decorated career before that. Bonnie brings her own brand of expertise into the equation; clinical precision, analytical knowledge, and a soul-deep, unending loyalty.

They’ll drift just fine, all the techs and fightmasters say.

And they do. But afterwards, Annalise doesn’t speak to her; barely even looks at her except for a raised eyebrow as they de-suit. Shame colours Bonnie’s cheeks, but she maintains eye contact until Annalise breaks it. No sense in shying away from what she already knows about herself, and what Annalise now knows.

Bonnie gives it a few days, and then she goes looking for her. Marshal Keating’s office in the Los Angeles Shatterdome is out of the way of the foot traffic and the living quarters; Bonnie has all the time she needs to steel her nerves on the walk there.

When she slips in, Annalise looks up at her, stares, and then sighs. Pressing her back to the closed door, Bonnie watches as the Marshal extracts a bottle of scotch from the desk drawer, rounds up a glass, and pours herself a measure. She doesn’t speak, not to offer Bonnie a seat or a drink, for the next two minutes or so. Knowing that all she can do is wait, Bonnie stands, watching as Annalise sips slowly from the glass, watching as the red stain on the rim grows darker and starker with every drink.

“Is that what you think of me?” Annalise finally asks. She looks Bonnie right in her eyes, and even if she wanted to, she wouldn’t be able to look away. 

Bonnie shakes her head mutely, and Annalise arches a perfect eyebrow.

“Is that what you think of _yourself_ , then?” Her voice is brittle, but there’s genuine curiosity there now. “Do you think that you’re worthless?”

Blood rushes to her cheeks once more, but with Annalise’s eyes holding her own, Bonnie finds the strength to stand her ground. 

“Not at all, ma’am,” she replies. She’s proud to find that her voice doesn’t shake at all. The Marshal lifts her chin, looking at her. “It’s quite the opposite. I want to prove that I’m worthy.”

A hushed silence takes dominion over the room. In the brown of Annalise’s eyes, Bonnie sees something shift, imperceptibly. 

It’s a long time before Annalise replies; until she does, she simply sips from her drink.

*

The first kaiju they bring down together is a Category III. Agitator rears its ugly head off the coast of San Diego and starts making a slow trek towards the city, kicking up huge waves and sending birds screaming for the shore. Before it’s halfway to its destination, Coyote South is there to meet it. 

The Marshal has shared this jaegar with other pilots before. Other soldiers, new recruits, and famously, her husband before his death. It lends to the rumour that she’s easily compatible, that she’ll drift with anyone, but that couldn’t be less true. Annalise Keating has simply known loss after loss, has a list of dead or decommissioned co-pilots a mile long, and somehow she always scrapes herself out of the dust and keeps clawing her way forward. She’s the kind of soldier that’s needed in a war like this, and the Defence Corps knows that they need to keep her in a jaegar. After every setback, they fight hard to find her another ranger. 

Bonnie has admired her from the first day at the Academy, and with every encounter, that admiration grew into respect, into desire, into a fierce, heart-stopping longing. The first time Bonnie met her in the Kwoon, she’d fumbled through every step, almost getting cleared off the mat in the first thirty seconds. It would have been a mortifying first showing, but luckily she’d gotten it together, and managed to bring it back to a 4-3 win. The light of consideration in Annalise’s eyes then, the small smile when Bonnie helped her back to her feet, was enough to fuel her dreams for weeks.

When they drift, Bonnie finds that they have uglier things in common. It’s a jarring neural shock, and for a moment, she comes close to following the white rabbit down the hole. But Annalise brings her back with cool words and a clear voice, standing out in her mind like the eye of a great storm. Bonnie centres herself, in her memories and in Coyote South’s cockpit, and comes out of it holding firm.

Those are just the tests. When it comes time for their first kaiju, Bonnie doesn’t hesitate. Agitator doesn’t stand a chance.

They slam into the monster from the right, barrelling it into the sea. It’s got the head of a shark and the eyes of a monster, malevolent gas oozing out of its maw. The first order of business is clear: they push it out towards the ocean, further and further away from the city. Agitator roars back, bringing up its claws for the attack, but they’re ready for it; Coyote South’s core holds strong. Bonnie takes a firm hold of it by the jaw as Annalise pummels into it; once, twice, and on the third time they hear the sickening lightning crack of shattered bones. 

The neural handshake is strong; they don’t have to speak to know what to do next. Bonnie loads up the plasma cannon, Annalise activates the brass knuckles, and they surge forward as one.

When the ocean settles and the waves calm, Coyote South is standing tall. The carcass of the monster floats in the sea next to it. In the cockpit, breathing hard, Bonnie glances across at her co-pilot, feeling the thrill of triumph and a job well done through their link, and knows that no other victory will ever feel so sweet. 

*

Bonnie finds herself on her knees, where she wants to be.

Annalise is pacing the office behind her. Bonnie can hear the clink of the ice in her glass as she walks, her pumps clicking loud against the floors. Those same floors are cold and hard on Bonnie’s knees, but her head is too foggy with bliss to care. 

She’s naked; she has been ever since she entered Annalise’s office and saw that look in her eyes. That same shifting look. Neither of them had spoken a word while Bonnie undressed, taking off each article of clothing with shaking hands, folding them, placing them neatly on a chair. Annalise had instructed her to walk to the desk and kneel before it, and Bonnie’s knees had gone weak with what that order did to her, how it made her cunt clench and her nipples rock hard.

And now, here she is. Annalise treads the floor behind her, sipping her scotch, and Bonnie is going a little out of her mind with the anticipation. When she hears the footsteps approaching, she goes rigid, clasping her hands together behind her back. 

Annalise walks out in front of her, and leans against the desk. She looks absolutely perfect, out of her Marshal’s uniform and in a simple black dress. Her makeup is immaculate, red lipstick standing out against her rich brown skin, and her fingernails, occasionally tapping against her glass, look like they’ve been freshly manicured. Bonnie swallows.

She still doesn’t have a name for the look in Annalise’s eyes, but after having been in her mind, after knowing her in an act more intimate than anything most people will ever get to experience, she thinks she can figure it out. Annalise is sharp and calculating, because her life has taught her to be nothing but, and yet there’s a shine of something else behind the deep dark brown of her irises. Something that’s almost tender, almost soft. Bonnie would almost call it pity, except the Marshal doesn’t do pity.

Sighing, Annalise drains her glass, and pours herself another drink. Still leaning back against her desk, she reaches out with one smooth, elegant leg, and uses the tip of her pump to lift Bonnie’s chin. Bonnie can’t help the sound that escapes her mouth, more of a whimper than a gasp, and if her nipples were hard before they’re absolutely aching now. Annalise tilts her head. She almost looks sad.

“I could be so bad for you,” she says, voice low. Almost before she finishes the sentence, Bonnie is shaking her head.

“No, never, you—” Her voice cracks, and she has to stop to clear her throat. Her mouth feels raw and tight, like mangled train tracks. “You could never.”

“I’m…” Annalise pressed two fingers to her temples, rubs it slowly. She retracts her leg. “You don’t know what you’re asking for. What you’re getting into.”

“With all due respect ma’am—” And dear god, what a thrill it is to say that word here, like this, when she’s on her knees and her thighs are wet with her arousal and Annalise only has eyes for her. “—I would know better than most.”

The drift looms between them. Annalise closes her eyes softly, and knocks back the rest of her drink.

*

Annalise fucks her for the first time that night, spread over her desk with one hand on her throat and three fingers deep inside her, the heel of her palm sometimes rubbing her clit. Bonnie writhes and moans helplessly, pink all over. It’s a slow, electrifying ache; Bonnie spreads her legs wide to try to encourage her, to try to take her deeper, but Annalise only observes her calmly, and keeps her unhurried pace. And when Bonnie reaches down to try to touch herself, she gets a quick slap for her trouble, right across the face. Bonnie has gone head to head with Annalise in the Kwoon; the woman can hit like a truck. But the slap is a gentle one; it barely stings, and instead sends a rush of arousal surging all across her body.

“Please,” she begs, “again.”

Annalise draws a finger across her cheek, where Bonnie knows she must be bright red, and the seconds tick by tortuously until she complies, striking the other cheek with just as much gentle force. Bonnie cries out, and before she has time to miss it, the hand is back on her throat, a faint pressure that makes her nipples prick up, makes the blood roar hot in her ears. Compared to this, her dreams were nothing.

Annalise fucks her slow, and long, and hard, and when Bonnie finally comes there are tears on her cheeks.

She lies prone on the table, chest heaving, feeling as if she’s gasping out little parts of her life with every passing second. There’s nothing that she would like more than to drop to her knees and reciprocate, but Annalise is looking at her like she’s never looked at her before, and she wants to savour it. It’s a pensive look, once more, just at the edge of sadness.

“I could be so bad for you,” Annalise says again. She leans down to kiss the first cheek that she had slapped, and then the other, and then she kisses Bonnie full on the lips. Bonnie all but melts.

“No,” Bonnie says. She reaches up to touch Annalise’s face, brush her hair back behind her ear. The fact that she’s allowed to do this feels like a benediction most divine. “We could be really _good_. Together.”

The Marshal’s lips twist into a wry smile, but it’s a smile nonetheless.

“Maybe so,” she says. 

Cupping Bonnie firmly by the back of the neck, she pulls her up into another kiss. Bonnie winds her arms around her neck, pouring all of herself into the embrace. It’s not exactly a promise, but Bonnie will take it, hold on to it with both hands. With Annalise touching her like this, she feels worthy.


End file.
